


Sizing Issues

by DarkmoonSigel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Love, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:46:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28324047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel
Summary: Aziraphale loses his pinky ring, but don’t worry. Crowley has it.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 119





	Sizing Issues

**Author's Note:**

> Still alive! I’ll catch you all up with what’s going on with me, but not now. Enjoy your serotonin, and if you celebrate the holidays, I hope they are going well.
> 
> Just remember, that you are loved, you are beautiful, you are valid, and you are a gift and a treasure. You matter. You deserve kindness.

Crowley could never wrap his head around why Aziraphale liked to do certain things the human way. From his terrible magic tricks to book mending, the latter of which he was actually unmatched at in skill, at least by human standards. Having been around before books even existed certainly helped. Aziraphale could mend any tome whether it be a clay slab or a leather bound volume, no matter how forlornly it arrived to him without the use of his powers, the angel being a true craftsman...craftsbeing. Even Crowley had to admit that it was all really rather impressive. Unsurprisingly, the angel was a specialist in repairing old family bibles. 

It did mean Aziraphale had to deal with various types of glue though, and of course, the angel preferred to make his own. This is worth noting for it led to Aziraphale taking off his signature gold signet pinky ring, the sole piece of jewelry the angel continuously ever wore besides his pocket watch. It was also worth noting that he left it in the presence of a very certain demon who was far too curious for his own good, one who always had been and who would always will be. 

The temptation was too impossible to ignore, Crowley picking up the ring to examine it. In all of 6,000 years, he’d never seen the angel take it off, not once. Crowley just wanted to try it on real quick, and then put it back exactly where Aziraphale had left it. Where was the harm in it? It wasn’t like he was going to keep it for himself. What could possibly go wrong? Crowley saw no issue in having a quick fit, or at least, none that he could foresee. 

That is what Crowley told himself as he tried out Aziraphale’s ring on his left pinky finger first. It was much too big there. He tried the middle finger next on the same hand. It was much too small there so that immediately took his forefinger and thumb out of the running. 

Peeking over his shoulder to find the angel still gone, Crowley moved on to his right hand, trying out all the fingers on it. The ring stubbornly didn’t fit any of them, much to the demon’s disappointment. He had one finger left to try, and it was doozy in his own mind, getting to wear the angel’s ring like a wedding band. Making sure that Aziraphale was still not around, Crowley sneaked off further in the stacks to lurk by a misplaced book of 16th century European agriculture techniques that was keeping company with some romantic comedies for some odd reason. 

“It’s probably not going to fit anyway.” Crowley goaded himself into action. So, of course, the ring slipped on like it had been made for that finger, a perfect fit. The demon was delighted and stunned all at once at his good fortune.

Crowley held his hand high over his head, grinning as he admired how the winged details caught the light. He allowed himself the passing thought that it even looked like it belonged there. Crowley especially enjoyed how the blessed metal felt against his finger, warm and tingly like the ring was alive.

Hearing Aziraphale puttering around upstairs reminded Crowley that time was of the essence. He couldn’t let the ring linger there and get caught with it. Crowley didn’t think Aziraphale would be angry with him, or least the demon hoped he wouldn’t be. More than likely, the angel would never let him live it down, a daunting thing when one was so long lived. Aziraphale still brought up the donkey that almost discorporated him in Bethlehem when the demon had tried to sneak into Christ’s manger for a looky-loo. The only reason Crowley hadn’t been was because Aziraphale had scooped him up, shoving the snake into his robe when no one was looking. He’d always had the worse luck with animals, especially the ones with hooves. 

Crowley didn’t want to be teased about something like this though. They spent all their time together now, and it was fantastic. Crowley had no complaints about that, but they hadn’t exactly gone more forward in their relationship than that. Aziraphale openly acknowledged now them as an item without stammering, denials, or excuses, which was a good thing, a big beautiful fantastic thing. Crowley was all for that, basked in the new open acceptance. “Too fast” still weighed heavily on his mind though. They had graduated up to hand holding and some cuddling, Crowley allowing Aziraphale to set their pace. The demon had all but melted when Aziraphale had sprung hair stroking into the mix. Crowley could wait. He’d waited this long. 

The angel would be back down soon enough with clean hands. Memorizing how the ring looked upon his finger, Crowley sighed as he went to pull it off. Unfortunately for the demon, Crowley found that the ring wouldn’t budge, not even a little bit. It was stuck on his finger. 

“What the hell?” Crowley frowned down at the ring. He tried again, tugging at it harder now to no avail.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Crowley chanted softly, starting to panic. He pulled at the ring, the jewelry resolutely staying on his finger like it had been welded there. He pulled so hard at it that the demon did a little odd hopping dance around the bookshop, causing him to knock into a table. The books upon it spilled everywhere. Literature hitting hardwood practically acted as a summoning spell for the angel.

“Everything all right down there, my dear?” Aziraphale called from above, Crowley thanking his lucky stars, the ones that were left, that the angel was still so preoccupied.

“Never better! It’s just...it’s just fine, tickey-boo even!” Crowley called back up, grimacing from the expression. He snapped the books back into their places, wondering to himself if he’d sounded natural. “Great. Now he’s got me saying it.”

“I thought I heard a book fall.” Because of course he had. As oblivious as the angel could be at times, Aziraphale would have the hearing of a...of a...some animal that could hear really well when it came to books. 

“Fall? Nah, know all about that. An expert in to. No falling here.” Crowley resumed his mad hopping twitch as he fervently tried to remove the ring again, almost falling over from the force he was putting into it. 

“I’ll be right down. I’m almost done here.” Enticed Crowley to pull harder at the ring, the effort cracking the knuckle with a satisfying pop. It was a wasted endeavor though, the metal securely bonding to his flesh. 

“Take your time! No rush!” Crowley yelled, realizing belated that he was beginning to sound frantic. The demon decided it was time for him to exit stage left before he gave himself away. 

“Crowley, dear...” Aziraphale started to say as he descended the spiral staircase to find the shop completely empty. “Crowley? Oh bother, where’s he gone off to?”

The first thought that sprang to mind for Crowley was to run away and regroup, the demon doing just that as he appeared in his own flat. The second thought was that he might have to end up biting off his own finger if this stupid ring continued to be difficult. It was like the metal had bonded to his flesh on the molecular level. Losing a finger was not an appealing notion to him so Crowley resolved to use dish soap, butter, or whatever else the internet suggested to try getting Aziraphale’s blasted ring off of his blasted finger. 

YouTube should have been helpful, and in a normal situation that didn’t involved heaven’s own gold, it would have been. Undaunted, Crowley tried everything any crackpot who had a channel could think of. Absolutely nothing worked.

“Fucking hell, I’m really going to have to take off the whole finger.” Crowley grimaced. He couldn’t put it off for much longer. Aziraphale could turn up at any moment looking for him or it. 

Because of the finger’s place, it would be easiest to bite it off so the surrounding fingers would be spared. That, or use a cigar cutter if he wanted to watch. Crowley did not. Popping the ring finger into his mouth, Crowley let his fangs lengthen and sharpen, biting down as hard as he could before he could really think about it. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Crowley shouted, spitting out bits of chipped off fangs. Healing his shattered teeth, the demon stared down at his uninjured digit, a terrible feeling beginning to rise from within him. Snapping a cigar cutter into existence, Crowley went to work again. He barely managed to dodge keen pieces of blade as it shattered on his flesh as if it were made of stone.

“Oh...fuck me blind.” Crowley was beginning to embrace that blossoming bad feeling, going for the biggest, sharpest knife he could find in his immaculate, generally unused kitchen. Placing his hand on the cutting board, Crowley mentally prepared himself to try and take off the whole hand. 

“What are you planning to do with that?” Said Aziraphale, abruptly scaring the demon. Knife flying out of hand, Crowley peered down at the angel, the demon having ended up on his kitchen ceiling from the frightful surprise. Aziraphale calmly caught the knife by the handle, putting it back in the block so that he could glare up at the ceiling demon. 

“Warn a body before popping in like that!” Crowley growled as he allowed gravity to effect him again.

“I’m terribly sorry for the intrusion, but I thought you might have been kidnapped by Heaven or Hell. You left so suddenly without a word.” Aziraphale angrily fretted, Crowley’s heart sinking. The angel’s fear was merited. They had earned a reprieve from either side, but it would eventually have an expiration date.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Needed to pop out for a bit.” Crowley tried to wave away the angel’s concerns, the momentarily forgetting that he should have kept his hands securely in his pockets, or hidden behind his back. 

“So that’s where it went!” Aziraphale smiled upon noticing the ring’s current location, “I was beginning to wonder where it had run off to.”

“Sorry, but it won’t come off.” Crowley muttered, realizing relieved that Aziraphale didn’t seem upset about it. If anything, the angel was amping up the wattage on his inner joy, glowing faintly from it. Crowley wondered what Aziraphale was so damn happy about, the angel’s halo coming into view. 

“Well, I would hope not.” Was exactly what Crowley least expected to hear as the angel laughed, continuing to glow brighter. “It wouldn’t be a very good bonding gift if it just came off your finger all willy nilly like whenever anyone wanted.”

“Come again?” Parts of Crowley’s brain were grinding down to a halt, ready to implode. “What are you going on about?”

“You were an angel once. Don’t you remember?” Aziraphale asked, losing his inner light like it had been suddenly snuffed out by a cold wind. The angel began to look very tentative for some reason. Alarm bells were beginning to sound in Crowley’s head, the space of which was already a mess. The word ‘bonding gift’ ping-ponged around in his skull’s confines. 

“Obviously not.” Crowley said flatly. Heaven and the Before was almost never a good subject with him on an uncomplicated day. Today was getting quite complicated. 

“If they feel so inclined to, angels are allowed to have mates so God gave each of us a gift for them, whether it be a pendant, or brooch, or a ring. It was meant to give to one’s intended to mark them as theirs. Their mates give their own back, and then, the two angels would officially become a couple for all the rest of eternity.” Aziraphale explained in that song-song voice of his when he wanted something doomed to turn out all right. He seemed torn between looking hopeful and elated that this might jog the demon’s memory. 

“So what? We’re a mismatched pair now in the eyes of God?” Crowley questioned, the angel not making sense. He was doing his utmost best not to freak out. “Me being not an angel and all.”

“Afraid so. Have been for quite some time now, unofficially so until now.” Aziraphale was beginning to sound strained, “But-but now you’re wearing the ring.”

“Since when? Since when have we been a pair, officially or unofficially?” Crowley tried as he began delve into a panic. When had that happened? It must have shown on his face because the angel immediately grew quite pale and still, all the life draining out of him. Crowley then realized that his words had come out all wrong. 

“In an unofficial capacity, for well over two hundred years.” The confession sounded pried out of Aziraphale, the angel looking utterly wretched about it. 

“What?! How?!” Which was exactly the worst thing to ask, but safe to say that Crowley was surprised into it. 

“It doesn’t matter. I can take back the ring and all the rest if it distresses you that much. I assumed...I don’t know what I assumed.” Aziraphale said quietly, looking as close to crying as Crowley had ever seen the angel, and that included the bandstand debacle. Aziraphale never cried, or at least, Crowley realized that he’d never seen his angel cry. 

In an instant, Crowley knew belated it absolutely did matter, and that he really should have stop talking as the ring unfurled its wings from around his finger. Sinking into the familiar depths of misery, Crowley watched it fly back to Aziraphale’s pinky finger to once more reside there. Crowley didn’t get to look at it there long, Aziraphale leaving in a flurry of feathers, leaving as fast as his wings would take him. 

“Oh no, you don’t!” Crowley followed, winging it swiftly after him. Despite his head start, Aziraphale found the demon waiting for him in the bookshop. 

“Go away.” Aziraphale snapped in a firm, petulant tone that Crowley have no intention of honoring, the angel keeping his face turned away from the demon as the angel frantically rubbed at his cheeks and eyes. From what Crowley could see, Aziraphale’s face was red from an ugly mixture of emotions that didn’t sit well on his face. If the angel really wanted him gone though, there wasn’t a whole lot that Crowley could do about it, and they both knew it. 

The bookshop had an insane amount of warding around it, the building like a stationary tank parked in a war zone behind miles and miles of broken glass, bear traps, minefields, and barbwire. Aziraphale was quite capable of keeping his demon out if the angel felt so inclined to do so which wasn’t it in this instant. What Aziraphale was doing, and trying desperately to stop and hide from Crowley were tears streaming down his face. 

They were beautiful, pearlescent and shining things, made perfect from the angel’s very own Grace leaking out of him.

“How come I’ve never seen you cry till now?” Was all Crowley could think to say, and he hadn’t, not even once during the Flood or even the Crucifixion. At the bandstand, Aziraphale had gotten a little watery eyed, but he hadn’t actually cried. 

“Because I’m an angel.” Aziraphale snapped, definitely put off by something.

“Oh fuck off, you’re telling me all your time on Earth that you haven’t shed a single tear until now? Not one single measly little tear for all the horrors you’ve had to bear witness to?” Crowley didn’t want to fight, but if it kept the angel talking to him, the demon would make it up to Aziraphale later. 

“Of course, I have! Just not around you! Never around you!” Aziraphale snapped back, seeming unable to stop now that he had started. 

“Pride is a sin, angel.” Crowley was feeling a little hurt about it, that Aziraphale has never felt comfortable enough to cry around him. On his part, Crowley had done plenty in the angel’s presence. 

“You’ve held a whole thermos full of them before. Does that answer your inquiry?” Was a real kick to the jaw. “The holiest” held a brand new meaning to Crowley, his damnable vivid imagination reconstructing past events. All too easily, he could see Aziraphale sitting at his old desk, weeping over a bowl, the angel believing that he was about to hand off a suicide pill to his...mate(?). He had done what Crowley asked of him though, no matter how painful it was.

“Angel, what are you going on about? I’ve obviously haven’t gotten the memo. I need you to calm down, and explain it to me like I’m slow, dull, and drunk.” Crowley said, following Aziraphale through the bookshop as the angel stormed away, though the demon kept his distance now that he knew about the lethal potency of Aziraphale’s tears. Thankfully, the question made the angel pause. 

“You honestly didn’t know? You’re not having me on?” Aziraphale said, deflating as he studied the demon’s earnest open expression. He carefully dried his eyes, cheeks, and hands with a tartan handkerchief pulled from the air. 

“I’m asking, aren’t I?” Crowley felt that he was finally making some headway.

“I thought it was all fairly obvious with the bookshop.” Aziraphale not quite ready to give up on his huff as he gestured expansively around them in “are you dense and blind?” motions.

“What about the bookshop? The place where you store all your books? What in blazes does that have to do with me?” Crowley grimaced. He hadn’t meant to say that last bit. Though the bookshop had been fully restored with some of Adam’s more colorful additions, the demon still didn’t like to think of fire and it in the same thought. 

“Yes, it is rather convenient for that, but ultimately, this space is...was meant for you.” Aziraphale started to sound strained again.

“I’m still not following.” Crowley cursed quietly in his head. He was missing something that was obvious to the angel. What had he missed? “What does your bookshop have to do with me?”

“I’m nesting, well, at least the Earth version of it. I’ve created a safe place for you, one where you can stay...if you felt so inclined to, if you like...with me.” Aziraphale said, looking absolutely miserable and embarrassed about it now. “I thought you knew. I thought that was why you were here all the time.”

Looking around the bookshop, Crowley saw it like it was for the first time. There was always wine and whiskey for him here. Soft blankets and comfortable furniture was hidden in dark places he could hide among the stacks if he felt like curling up to take a nap. There were precious shelf real estate left bare under the best windows for sunlight if he felt like sunning himself in snake form. 

There was an entire flat above the bookshop, one that Aziraphale rarely used, but that made sense now because the angel never meant it for just himself. There was an unslept in bed upstairs, one that the angel had gotten just for Crowley because Aziraphale certainly didn’t sleep. It had silk sheets, down pillows, and most recently added, a memory foam topper. Crowley knew about it because Aziraphale had pitched such a fuss over finding the perfect one, which the demon had found odd at the time. 

“But you said that I go too fast for you.” Crowley said, clearly at a loss.

“I was talking about your driving. I had just given you a whole thermos full of holy water, and I didn’t want you zipping about London like you do with it. What did you think I meant...oh...” Aziraphale said, still ready to argue until a certain realization mauled him. It made the angel take a seat in shock to stare down at his hands, which began to tremble a bit as his anger left him in a rush. “Oh. Oh dear.”

“So...over two hundred years?” Crowley broke the silence first as he knelt down to take the angel’s shaking hands into his own. 

“In an unofficial capacity, yes. Staked my claim on you a long while ago, even before that.” Aziraphale admitted in a hesitant manner.

“How long is a long while ago?” Crowley prompted. He wasn’t planning on moving even a little bit until he found out. Nations could rise and fall for all he cared. 

“You really don’t know?” Aziraphale asked in dismay at the demon’s answering look. This time he didn’t wait for an answer though, his words bum rushing the demon. “Crowley, I’ve loved you since the first rain. I’ve been madly in love with you since your first oyster. I’ve considered you my mate since the day you saved me from returning to Heaven, and brought me those chocolates and flowers to celebrate the bookshop’s opening. I would have offered you the ring right then and there, but I feared what Heaven and Hell would do to you if anyone ever saw you with it, if they ever found out.”

“Yeah, alright, okay, this is happening, right right right, a lot to take in is at once all, but yeah. It’s fine. It’s cool. I’m cool, so cool.” Crowley word vomited as the world righted itself underneath him. He had always sort of known, at least he always hoped for it, but that wasn’t the right way to put it either.

It was one of the few things he actually had faith in, as barren as that particular desert was. He might have lost a great deal of it in the Fall, but Crowley’s faith in Aziraphale’s love was the oasis of his existence. At times, when they seemed bleakest like the 14th century or Armageddon, it was all he ever had to cling onto to keep going. So what was hindering it now? “Why haven’t you given the ring to me since the Pause of Days?”

“I didn’t think you would want it.” Aziraphale said quietly, looking positively retched about it. He wasn’t meeting Crowley’s eyes either anymore, the angel staring down at their joined hands. That would never do.

Pulling them in closer, Crowley pressed a flurry of scaled lip kisses to the palms of them. To the demon’s relief, Aziraphale allowed it. “Fucking hell, why would you think that?”

“I said all those terrible things to you at the bandstand. Things that I can never take back, poorly timed and poorly spoken.” Aziraphale’s voice was barely above a whisper, “I-I don’t deserve you. Maybe one day I will...if you’ll have me, that is.”

“I’ll have you now.” Was what made Aziraphale finally look the demon in the eyes. 

“What?” The angel startled. 

“Gimme the ring.” Crowley said, letting go so that he could motion with grabby hands. Romantic gestures hadn’t gotten him what he wanted so Crowley went with a far more direct method as he climbed to his feet. 

“But,” Aziraphale was left no choice in the matter, Crowley actively trying rob the ring right off of the angel’s finger. 

“It’s mine. Give it to me.” Crowley told Aziraphale and the ring, glaring down at the latter. The ring dutifully complied, transferring itself from the angel to the demon, snugly wrapping itself around Crowley’s finger once again. He noted that the metal was just as warm and tingly as it had been before to the touch. Crowley raised his hand high over his head so they could both admire it. 

“Are you sure, my love?” Aziraphale asked, looking like he was doing his best not to cry. Crowley understood why now. 

“Been sure for over 6,000 years, angel.” Crowley all but purred, the demon suave until his brain hit him upside the head with a delayed thought. “Bats! It’s bats!”

“Bats? What about them?”

“They’re brilliant at hearing things well.” 

“Well, I must say, you’re not wrong.”

“Er, sorry...ruined the moment there,”

“I love you, you fool, but I will be most cross with you if you don’t kiss me this very instant.”

So Crowley did.


End file.
